Chrome frame shining in the gray.
Brakes are screaming through the day.
Steel and rubber hit the street.
Searching for a cool retreat.
Down in the basement of the books.
Finding the corners and the nooks.
Paper tide washing over me.
Finally floating and feeling free.
Tires leaning on the wall.
Heavy folders start to fall.
Ink on fingers, yellow page.
Breaking out of every cage.
Down in the basement of the books.
Finding the corners and the nooks.
Paper tide washing over me.
Finally floating and feeling free.
Cold air hitting on the skin.
Where the quiet hours begin.
Old maps spread across the floor.
He don't need the open door.
Down in the basement of the books.
Finding the corners and the nooks.
Paper tide washing over me.
Finally floating and feeling free.
Lantern light in every line.
Reading through a different time.
Clock is ticking on the shelf.
Finding pieces of himself.
Down in the basement of the books.
Finding the corners and the nooks.
Paper tide washing over me.
Finally floating and feeling free.
Just let the paper tide roll in.
Let the quiet hours begin.
(Brass stab)
Feeling free.
